


curves

by hartfeld (lyuyu)



Category: Blades of Light and Shadow (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Mild Smut, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyuyu/pseuds/hartfeld
Summary: She adores his smile.
Relationships: Tyril Starfury/Main Character (Blades of Light and Shadow)
Kudos: 4





	curves

"Do you want me?"

Her question itself is anything but needed, the answer hidden in two of her favorite curves to be found on Tyril's body. The first one is one she loves to let her gaze linger on, shy and soft on his lips, often fleeting and only meant for her to see, and like a treasure, it's found only if sought.

She always seeks it. She adores his smile.

Though his smile may be her favorite of them all, the second curve holds a position just as high in her heart, though the nature of it is wildly different from the earlier one's. It's the one that, if and when one day his smile fails to rise on his lips to give the answer, maybe out of desire too intense to be shown with such a gentle gesture, that other curve leaves no room for doubt that she is indeed wanted.

That curve is a bright contrast to the one of his lips; a hard, desperate one, pressed against the space between her thighs most urgently. If the curve of his mouth warmed her heart, this is the one that lights her whole body on fire.

Out of the two of them, she is the 'tease', her hips rolling in small, smooth circles when she sits astride on his lap. She lives for the violet of his cheeks and the purrs that creep from the back of his throat, and sighs so breathy and needy. He's said it himself more times than a few, how much he needs her. How much he needs more of her.

She can't get enough of him either. Of his lips, hands, arms, his whole gorgeous entirety. Him.

"Answer," her voice is an echo of his purrs, fingers brushing his cheeks and over his lips, "do you want me?"

He's a vision to behold, sprawled out under her like this, black hair like satin waves against the white of the sheets. Another soft moan hits the air at the move of her hips against his and Tyril's eyes have never been as foggy as they are now.

"Yes," he whispers, words threatening to get caught in his throat thick with yearning, "always yes."

His palms rest firm on her thighs, fingertips digging into flesh in wanting, pinning her tighter against him. His breath is so shallow it makes her chuckle, gods, she's so taken with the sight of him like this. She could watch him for hours on end.

They love being together without armor, both physical and emotional. Hebrien much prefers Tyril in plain clothing over the harsh metal plates covering his handsome frame. The ensemble is hell to take off to begin with; after a while, he had taken up a nerve-saving habit of stripping it right away whenever they were about to spend the night together. Hebrien returned the favor by doing the same herself.

Unclothing still never seems to go fast enough - especially when she makes him wait for permission to do so, but the wait, it makes it all the more sweeter. She holds his gaze for one tormenting moment, the look in his eyes close to pleading.

Tyril never acts without her say-so. Hebrien more than loves his unrequested obedience, knowing that it's out of pure respect more than anything else, not to be rewarded or to please.

She gives him a smile and a small nod, whispers 'come', and before she can lean all the way down to kiss him, he has met her halfway, capturing her lips with his own, so eager and impatient, yet still so tender, arms going around her to pull her body flush against his. Chest to chest, nose to nose, his eyelashes tickle her cheeks.

They have tiptoed around the term, but she considers them soulmates. Something tells her that he does too.

They rush to bare each other, pesky clothes, always in the way. His skin feels so hot against hers as if he has been warmed by the sun all day long. Switching places, her on her back now and him looming over her, it's her eyes in turn that become foggy and her sight clouded, everything in her aching for him. Tyril touches her with such reverence she feels like something divine and pure, though he has seen to it time and time again that she isn't. (Then again, she never was 'pure' to begin with. Neither of them were.)

For someone with so much fervor in him, Tyril sure does take his time; he reacquaints himself with her curves every time they come together like this, starting from the nook of neck and traveling down to her chest, lips leaving heated imprints of his adoration for her. Feeling his breath on her skin always makes Hebrien shudder, the promises of more to come leaving her lightheaded and in anticipation.

His hands follow the trail of his mouth, settling on her breasts, one of his favorite curves, and gives them a gentle squeeze with a smirk as he kisses the soft spot just under her bellybutton.

He isn't one for 'teasing', there's too much craving built up inside him, and he doesn't care to make either one of them wait any longer than they have to. He's hungry for her and for the taste of her, head bowing between her thighs, making her utter his name in a breathy gasp at the first touch of his mouth against her heat.

_ Gods, she loves this. _


End file.
